


Midnight Reprieve

by Okadiah



Series: A Day of Recovery [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Twilight of the Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning to Chopper Base, Hera is concerned with Kanan's calm behavior in the wake of everything that had been lost on Malachor. Worried, Hera decides that they need to talk, deep within the quiet reprieve of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Reprieve

Hera stood motionless before the door to Kanan’s cabin, as she had been for a while now. It was deep in the night, so deep that everything on Chopper Base, and from within the _Ghost_ , seemed so still that they might not have existed at all. As if, given everything that had happened, time had chosen to pause, holding everything within the vacuum of space immovable, and untouched as if in reprieve.

Except for her. Only she seemed to break free of the stasis.

Given the stillness of the deep night, she felt as if she were breaking a taboo, and that by doing so, she’d cause the world to start up again, bringing with it more pain and sorrow when no one was ready for it. They needed this, they all needed this, the stillness. The reprieve. But tonight, the night was no reprieve for her. It hadn’t been since she’d come back to the _Ghost_ with Kanan hours ago, from the fleet’s medical bay. It hadn’t been since they’d parted for sleep, the rest of their family following their lead and doing the same, careful and quiet, with torn and lingering gazes that matched her own.

Hera had lain in her bunk for hours, her heart silently aching as she stared up into the darkness, waiting for morning because she knew she would get no sleep tonight. She’d listened to the idle beeps and noises of the _Ghost_ around her, comforting and familiar though they failed to bring with them their typical peace.

Thoughts about what had happened to Kanan, Ezra, and Ahsoka on Malachor chased themselves through her mind relentlessly, restlessly. Her head ached as if congested from the thoughts, and they forced away any peace that might have been had in the dark. Kanan had lost his sight, Ezra was losing his way, and Ahsoka … it was unlikely that she’d survived an encounter with Vader, and the simultaneous destruction of the Sith temple. She was beyond thankful that her boys had made it back to her and their family, but there was no denying that no matter what front her Jedi were putting up for everyone, they had come back to her damaged and changed.

And that was how she knew that if she was still awake because of these terrible truths and awful thoughts, there was no way Kanan had achieved sleep, despite the medication he’d been given to help with his pain. After so many years together, she knew him, and she knew that he was likely doing the exact same thing she was doing. Chasing thoughts, phantoms, and doubts through the dark corridors of his mind, drowning in them.

Only he was in pain, and he was alone in permanent darkness.

The thought had haunted her, and she’d left her room soon after for his. But instead of entering as she normally would, she found herself hesitating. Given all that had happened, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would want her there. Sometimes Kanan needed his space after a mission, especially a bad one, to help sort out his mind, reestablish his connection to the Force, and to seek guidance. To seek clarity in the Force, and achieve peace and serenity.

She didn’t think he was seeking clarity now though. As much as she wished otherwise, she didn’t think he was achieving peace and serenity either. If anything, he was trying to center himself and find what little stability he could, while he could, so that he could appear to be the Jedi that they all needed and depended on. Should she deny him that? She wanted to, he needed someone, but when she’d asked earlier he’d responded … like a Jedi. He’d given responses to her in that calm Jedi way, and he’d vanished into his room. It had been disconcerting, the stoic manner in which he’d handled himself. Usually it was such a source of stability within the chaos, the Jedi in him showing through, reliable as ever. Usually his serenity felt real and natural.

This serenity … this _Jedi_ serenity … given everything that had happened, everything that was lost, and given that this was Kanan, this serenity felt strange. This serenity was the serenity of a Jedi Knight. It was the quiet stoicism of the Jedi Order, as she understood it. It was the calm that Ahsoka always seemed to possess. It was the peace that Kanan called upon when everyone needed him to be a Jedi, when _he_ needed to be a Jedi.

But … it wasn’t Kanan’s serenity. And Hera knew better.

As real as his calm and control might appear, her instincts and her reason were insisting that for someone, the peace he displayed was a front. Kanan was clinging to his peace in order to protect someone.

And she suspected that she knew _exactly_ who it was he was trying to protect. Just who it was he was trying to lie to. And that was what concerned Hera most.

Quietly she pressed her hand to her face, rubbing her eyes as she tried to reign in her thoughts and think, tired of the indecision. Enough. Whenever she was faced with a complicated situation or a difficult decision, and she didn’t know what to do, she followed her instincts. And her instincts were telling her to get in there and talk to Kanan, before any self-destructive thoughts he was having managed to take root in the fertile soil of his psyche.

Just as she was lifting her hand to knock gently in warning, Hera blinked as the door hissed open, and Kanan stood in the doorway. He was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of dark shorts, his skin standing out warmly even in the dim nighttime lighting of the _Ghost_ , and his hair was down and an inky mess. On other occasions she would have shamelessly looked him over for a moment before scolding him for walking about like that when they had a teenage girl sleeping down the hall, and that behavior like that was setting a bad example for the boys. Such thoughts were far from her mind now, though. Despite his attractive physique and enticing state of undress, Hera’s eyes remained locked on the white bacta strip that covered his eyes as it dominated her attention and made her heart tremble painfully.

Oh, Kanan.

“Well, are you going to stand out here all night?” Kanan asked quietly, hardly disturbing the night’s stillness as his lips turned up in typical Kanan humor, even if it was a diminished version of it. All Hera could do, though, was continue to frown in sadness as instead of tired blue eyes, the white bacta bandage looked down on her instead. “Come on. It’s cold out here.”

A large, warm hand twitched forward towards her, brushing her still outstretched arm clumsily. He oriented himself before sliding it down to catch her hand, and Hera could only watch the movement in growing despair. His motions were usually so sure and confident. To see the uncertainty tore her apart.

But she held his hand firmly within hers regardless, and let him pull her inside, the door hissing closed behind her.

“Did you know I was there?” Hera asked as she followed after him, watching as he used a hand to follow the wall as a guide until he found his bunk and pulled them both down to sit on the narrow mattress. The room was dimly lit, the lights set as low as possible they might as well have been off, and she wondered if Kanan had turned them on for her, or if he even knew that they were on at all. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, not when Kanan was smiling in her direction, still holding her hand.

“I heard you get up,” he admitted softly as he began scooting back so that his back could rest against the wall, pulling her with him. “Could you hand me my pillow? Thanks.” She did as he asked, pressing the pillow carefully into his waiting hand, and watched as he stuffed it between his back and the wall until he was comfortable. “I’ve been waiting for you to come in ever since you stopped at my door. What? Worried you’d find me in the buff? You know I wouldn’t mind.”

Hera couldn’t control the urge to roll her eyes and look at him pointedly, but it was only after the fact, when Kanan was still looking at her with that lopsided grin, waiting, that she realized that he hadn’t seen her. He didn’t know, and it made her heart quake. She always rolled her eyes at him when he said teasing comments like that … and this time, he hadn’t known.

Kanan’s smile wavered as the moment grew thick, but it came back as he chuckled at her.

“Rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”

“How could I not?” she shot back softly, her voice tight, and she knew that he’d heard it. “I wasn’t sure if you were awake or not. I didn’t want to disturb you if you were asleep.”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted in question above the bacta bandage. “Uh-huh. You know, I’ve known you long enough to know when _you’re_ lying, right?”

Hera couldn’t help the tiny smile that slipped across her face as she settled herself more comfortably, leaning against him and his solid warmth as she held his hand in her lap. She supposed she deserved Kanan’s criticism. After all, hadn’t she said the same thing to him, before he left for Malachor?

“Then you must let me get away with quite a few things,” she teased half-heartedly as she gazed softly at his hand.

“Only when it comes to the kids and Zeb,” he agreed as he let himself relax a bit against her, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “Now, why were you waiting so long at my door, Hera? You know I always look forward to a midnight visitation from you. You’ve always been welcome to walk in whenever you like.”

His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he grinned in that old ladies-man way of his, and the suddenness of the old teasing made Hera grin back and knock him with an elbow. But as she did, she once again caught sight of the bacta bandage, practically glowing white in the dim light, and what mirth she’d found just as quickly vanished. Almost as if he’d been able to see it, Kanan’s own demeanor also lost that light-hearted teasing quality, and his brows furrowed in concern. His hand disentangled itself from hers to find her cheek so that he could turn her face to his, and know he had her attention.

“Hera?”

“Kanan,” Hera said softly as she drew up her knees, turning more to face him even though he couldn’t see her do it. With a gentle touch, she pulled his hand down from her cheek, and she watched his brow furrow further, his lips pulling down slightly. “Don’t. Not here. Not with me. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Unable to stop herself, she let her forehead drop gently against his shoulder, just under his injured face. His loose hair tickled her skin, and she let her green eyes close in fatigue as she just breathed. He smelled faintly of smoke, which told her that he’d done little more than a wipe down with water and a towel before he’d returned with Ezra and Chopper. Following that was the scent of bacta, uncomfortably medical and a constant reminder of his new reality. She hated it. She hated both scents because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t smell _him_. She couldn’t find his normal scent of leather and space and warmth anywhere, all covered up with these awful, cloying smells, and it distressed her. His scent had long been a scent she’d begun to associate with family, with safety, and with home, and to not find it on him … it was wrong, and unsettling.

His hand pulled from her hands again, but this time instead it slipped around her shoulder as he turned in to her, nuzzling the top of her bare head. Kanan’s hand gently swept across the soft fabric of her night shirt to cross her spine under her lekku, anchoring itself at the juncture of her neck. He pulled her more closely against him as she slung an arm around his waist, her fingers lightly stroking the warm skin of his lower back.

They didn’t say anything for a long time as they simply held each other, breathing and waiting, taking all the time in the world. Hera would wait however long it took Kanan to respond. She’d learned over the years that as gregarious as Kanan appeared, he kept his cards close to his chest, and the only thing that you could do was wait and be patient. He’d tell you in his own time, but if you tried to pry before he was ready, he’d shut you out and you’d never get in. But she knew that, and he knew she knew that, and after a very long time, he sighed, pressing his head more firmly against her own.

“Here to break me out of my head, huh?”

Her hand swept up his spine and across the broad expanse of his back, all muscle and strength and warmth, and she chuckled softly.

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try,” he replied softly, tender affection in his voice, and she couldn’t help smiling a little at that. He was right. He knew her as well as she knew him.

“Someone’s got to take care of you.”

“I’ll have you remember that I got along just fine for years taking care of myself, before we met on Gorse,” Kanan pointed out, his voice sounding a little more like himself.

“If you think being a loner, vagabond, smuggling, brawling, ladies-man is considered adequately taking care of yourself, then you are delusional.” She chuckled at him, remembering how he was when she first met him versus how he was now. “Face it, Kanan. You’re better and you’re happier knowing that I’m here to take care of you. And your messes.”

“No truer words,” he agreed as he held her tenderly against him. “You got me.”

Silence crept in between them again as they held each other, hands stroking soothing circles over skin before Hera’s patience once again won out, and Kanan sighed, his body seeming to deflate as his humor left him.

“Talk to me, Hera.” His request was soft, almost too soft. “Just … speak. Tell me your concerns. Tell me what you did today. Talk to me about anything and just -” Kanan’s voice grew tight, and she suspected it was his stubborn control that had caused his words to cease, rather than allow the emotions to break through and run free. His grip on her, though, and the harsh, tight breathing as he fought for control, were telling. “Please. Just let me listen to your voice.”

Hera’s heart ached, and her eyes burned. He wanted to listen to her speak. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice.

Hadn’t he told her, long ago, that it was her voice that had caught his attention that muggy night on Gorse? Hadn’t he joked that she should switch careers from pilot to singer, if pilot of the Rebellion ever fell through? Hadn’t she always found him nearby whenever she was humming to herself from the cockpit of the _Ghost_ within the vast depths of space in the middle of the night, when she’d thought everyone had gone to sleep? Passively, she’d always known that he liked the sound of her, but she wondered now if perhaps he’d been hiding just how much he appreciated it.

She wondered if the sound of her voice soothed him as much as his scent soothed her?

“I can’t tell you how relieved I was, when I saw you, Ezra, and Chopper come off the _Phantom_ ,” she confided. “I’d been worried ever since you all left. I was so worried, I’m sure that Sabine spiked the tea she’d given me after lunch to try to calm me down.”

“Did it work?” questioned Kanan, his voice tight, but there was real interest there. Desperate interest. She chuckled gently at the question.

“Please. I could hardly hold down what little I’d eaten for lunch. Tea was beyond me.” Her fingers stroked his back soothingly, trying to help the muscles there unwind at her gentle persistence, and she was pleased to find that it was slowly working as she kept talking. “And besides, I didn’t want to take the risk that whatever she might have mixed in would put me out. I didn’t want to miss any news, when it came.”

“And if it had never come?”

Involuntarily, her lip trembled because although that hadn’t been a possibility, it was the worst case scenario that had been running through her mind constantly since the Jedi had left for Malachor. She’d tried to distract herself with work, with Sabine and Zeb, and _Ghost_ maintenance, but none of it could pull her mind from the worry. More often than she’d ever admit, her eyes had lingered on the control panel of the _Ghost_ , waiting for … anything.

“I programmed both Chopper and the _Phantom_ to send a message back should the worst happen, or if they were destroyed,” she said with a shrug. “News would have come. I was just … terrified to know what type of news it would be.”

“It was still bad news, though. Ahsoka is gone. Ezra is … falling even closer to the dark side than ever. I’m …” his voice trailed off softly with a sigh, and he began pulling back a little so that he could rest more fully on the wall again. But instead of break from her hold like she was a little worried he might, he kept her close. With deft hands he gently drew one of her lekku over her shoulder, stroking its length with the softest, and most reverent of touches.

Hera swallowed at the sensation. Her lekku were very sensitive, especially since it was a rare occasion she let anyone touch them. Even though Kanan was always that rare exception, it never ceased to make her breath hitch, and cause him to smile knowingly. The warmth of his hand, as always, seemed to radiate up her head-tail to tingle pleasantly along the back of her skull, and down her spine. It was a very gentle sensation, pleasurable. Right now though, it was an incredibly comforting sensation, and she let her head gently rest against the wall next to his, closing her eyes to sink into the soft touch.

“Maybe,” she finally admitted, her forehead slipping forward to rest against his as a gentle point of contact. “But I’d been prepared for so much worse. It’s terrible that we lost Ahsoka … but I still got my family back.” She sighed heavily before lifting a hand to cup the side of his face, her fingers slipping over the edge of the bandage and into his dark hair. “I still got _you_ back.”

“And what good am I now, Hera?” There was a tired and dead tone in his voice as he confessed, the idle touches on her lekku taking on an edge of agitation. “What good am I to the Rebellion, now? To Ezra and Sabine? To Zeb?” His voice softened with pain. “What good am I to _you_? I’m _blind_ , Hera. What can I do now, but get in the way?” Kanan’s hand began to shake on her lekku, and as if suddenly aware of it, he drew it quickly away, and Hera’s brow furrowed at the action. She wasn’t surprised by the confession though. Unhappy about it, true, but she’d suspected these had been the thoughts he’d been torturing himself with.

“There it is,” Hera finally said with a weak, one-sided smile to herself, pained as it was. “I was waiting for the self-doubt, and self-depreciation. I was a little worried there. You wouldn’t have been the Kanan I knew if you _weren’t_ tearing yourself apart.”

“Hera,” he sighed unhappily, clearly displeased with how she was taking his concerns, but she wasn’t going to have _any_ of it.

“No, Kanan. Don’t lie to me. You may be saying and thinking those things, but I know you don’t really believe them.”

He chuckled darkly as he turned away from her to face the center of the cabin, back resting fully against the wall as he smiled at the darkness with satirical humor. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Kanan,” Hera pressed softly, heart firm as she caught his chin in her fingers and turned his head gently back in her direction, keeping his attention on her and not his dark thoughts. “Why isn’t Ezra with Maul right now?”

Even in the darkness of Kanan’s cabin, she could see his lips press into a tight line, especially because she knew that she had a good point. She’d been there when Kanan had debriefed Commander Sato. She knew that, even blinded, Kanan had fought off the old Sith to save Ezra. He’d used the Force to guide him, using senses that she could only guess at. If he could do something like that, so soon after losing his sight, a terrible wound that anyone other than a Jedi would have fallen to, with practice, how could he not do it again and again, with growing skill until the loss of his vision was nothing but a hurdle he’d overcome?

With determination, Hera pressed off against the wall, and slowly moved to straddle Kanan’s hips so that she was once again fully facing him, ensuring that he had nowhere to go unless he forcibly pushed her off of him. His hands immediately went to her hips, stabling who, she had no idea. There were no provocative comments though, no teasing humor. There was only the thin line of his lips, and the eerie way that white strip of bandage seemed to look at her with focus, where deep blue should have been.

Gently Hera let herself rest against his thighs as she took his face between her hands once again. “If you thought you were truly worthless, Kanan, why did you come back? You could have run. You _would_ have run, when you were younger, but you didn’t. And when you came back, you didn’t break down, or rage. You acted like a Jedi, strong in the aftermath of what had happened, and what you had lost.” She paused, her voice softening as she stroked one hand through his dark hair over and over, slow and soothingly. “Why do that at all, Kanan? Why be a Jedi, if there is no good in it? Why be a Jedi if there was no worth, even if you can’t see?”

She paused again, something cracking within her, and she couldn’t resist leaning forward until their noses brushed, and they shared breath.

“And if those aren’t good questions, then let me ask one more. Why come back to _me_ , Kanan?” Hera’s voice cracked and her eyes burned, but she pushed through it, to push through his doubts and help him through these dark thoughts before they began to take root. Before he began to believe them, and they destroyed him, and eventually took him away from her. “Why let me into your room, when you could have let me stand out there all night? Why let me this close? Why -!” She choked suddenly, desperate emotion crashing within her like a maelstrom after holding them back through sheer force of will all day. One of her hands in his hair suddenly lifted, only to slam into the metal wall behind him, thudding sharply and painfully and making Kanan flinch at the suddenness of it.

“Damn it, Kanan. If you really thought that I only wanted you for all the good you could do as a Jedi, _why come back to me_?”

“You know why,” he said softly in the dark space between them, reaching up to take her hands between his to prevent her from striking at the wall again and hurting herself. “Hera, you know why.”

A small sob slipped past her throat, and deep sadness layered her voice. “Then, Kanan, why do you think it means so little? Like _you_ mean so little?”

“Hera -”

“Because you don’t,” she said fiercely, her sadness shifting to righteous anger and she gripped his hands firmly in hers where they rested between them. “You don’t mean so little. Not to me. Not to Ezra, or Sabine, or Zeb, or Chopper. And not to the Rebellion. Kanan, you have so much worth, and I _will not_ let you even _begin_ to start thinking, or start believing, otherwise. So you tripped and fell at Malachor. So your eyes -” Her voice faltered at the direct mention of his lost sight, but she pushed through. “So they’re gone. We’ll work around the problem and find other solutions. This isn’t the end, Kanan. These are just obstacles that can be overcome, and you will overcome them. I will help you. _We_ will help you. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. Because that’s what family _does_.”

The hands in hers gripped hers tightly, but she wasn’t done. Not yet. “I will not let you start thinking this way, Kanan, so just stop _now_. I know that the thoughts will keep persisting for a while, but I will be here to knock some sense into you _every single time_.” She all but shook with conviction, her heart pounding hard and desperate. “And if you’re going to keep thinking about giving up, then give up when we’ve all died, and the Rebellion has failed. Give up when your strength leaves you and the Force no longer answers your call. Give up when you’ve breathed your last breath, and _only_ then, because I know that’s what Kanan Jarrus _does._ That’s what you do. You keep getting up even when you’ve been knocked down, and you don’t stop. You may need some room to grieve sometimes, but you always get back up.”

Her breath was coming hard, and tears were falling from her eyes. They had been for a while she suddenly realized. Her tears rained down onto Kanan, slicking his bare skin, and she cried even harder when she saw the devastated look on his face. His teeth showed in a pained grimace, eyebrows tight and so expressive as she worked desperately to eradicate his doubt and set the foundations for healthy recovery.

“So don’t just put up a strong front. _Be_ the strong front, not only for all of us, but for you too.” His hands trembled in hers and she held them against her heart, hoping he could feel the love that beat there for him, and the earnest nature of her words. “And it’s okay if it takes some time. It’s okay if it goes slow. Just please, don’t think of yourself as a tool, and think of yourself as someone with inherent worth. Because I do, Kanan. I always have.”

Strong arms encircled her body and she found herself pulled up against his chest. Within moments he’d all but curled around her, knees rising to help box her in against him like she was something so fragile and so precious, and not one of the steadiest pilots in the fleet. She clung to him just as tightly though. His body shuddered around her, his breath uneven and ragged with quiet and broken sobs as he clung to her like a small child might, as they hurt and they ached together.

They stayed like that for a long time, long enough for the tears to stop falling and to dry. Long enough for the sobs to stabilize into long and smooth breaths, even and steady and strong. The stillness of the night filled the air once again, and all Hera could hear was the steady beat of Kanan’s heart, the draw of his breath as it relaxed and soothed her just as much as the gentle slide of his hand on her back, and on her lekku did.

After a time, Kanan broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “And here everyone thinks you never lose your composure.”

“I don’t,” she responded softly, voice a little rough, but there was something of her normal self in it. “There’s just something special about you that brings out the worst in me.”

“I think it could be argued that your ‘worst’ might be one of the best things about you,” he mused gently, sounding more and more like his normal self as well. “There’s something about your passion that just … wins people over. It’s practically a secret weapon of the Rebellion, if you ask me.”

“Right,” she said with an exasperated chuckle, shaking her head at his teasing. “Didn’t work with the Protectors.”

“Not every weapon has a one hundred percent accuracy rate.”

Hera’s small smile slipped, and she sighed against his chest. “Did it work with you?”

Kanan paused within the silence of the bunk before slowly drawing her up and close again, and she swallowed as she waited for him to pull her forward into a gentle and caring kiss.

This wasn’t the first time they’d kissed, and it certainly wasn’t always so chaste. But they were rare instances, precious moments filled with bright and burning meaning, and it still made her heart ache with the tenderness and the love of it every time. This kiss was gentle and soft, regardless of his chapped and dry lips, and carefully she deepened the kiss. It didn’t develop into anything stronger though. This kiss was all about care and love and compassion and neither wanted it to be more than just this small, intimate, dangerous little thing. On other occasions, they’d toe the line with how far they were willing to try for, kissing and grinding and touching, but it never went much further than that.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want more. She did, and she knew Kanan did too. But unfortunately, it wasn’t a line that they could cross, not with her position in the Rebellion, or his position as a Jedi, or with the way the galaxy was right now. It just wasn’t … feasible, not if they needed to fight. Neither of them could afford any other unnecessary distractions, and to try for something more, even though they both wanted it … that would only complicate an already delicate situation.

Perhaps, once the Rebellion won, once peace and freedom had been returned to the galaxy, once they were no longer needed, given that they were all still alive … perhaps then. Once they no longer needed to be Captain Syndulla, or Jedi Knight Jarrus, once they could live in a world that didn’t need them to lead and be strong, maybe then they could be something more. Maybe then she could allow herself to entertain fantasies of settling down, of marriage, of children. Of Force-sensitive little beings running around hers and Kanan’s legs as Ezra taught them how to communicate with creatures through the Force, as Zeb tossed them around and secretly taught them how to fire a blaster, as Sabine encouraged artistic expression and the thrills of explosives, or while Chopper let them ride him in mad circles, making these imagined little beings scream with glee. Maybe then, she could allow herself such hopes. Maybe then.

But not now, because as much as they might desire that, to try for it now would be irresponsible and cruel, to the Rebellion, to freedom, to the _Ghost_ crew, and to themselves. They already had so much to lose, and facing that reality was already heart-breakingly difficult. But more? No. Not now, and they both knew it. They both, for the time being, accepted it, and that would be that until the situation changed enough to allow for more.

Slowly Kanan pulled away, only to press his forehead gently against hers, and in the darkness she could still see him give her a small, but honest, smile.

“You need to ask? Hera, it has _always_ worked with me.” The honesty that filled his voice left no room for doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth, and the tight tension that she’d felt building and constricting her heart had begun to release as relief grew tentatively within her.

She chuckled at his reply, but smiled back at him despite him not being able to see, sensing somehow that he didn’t need to see to know it was there on her lips, plain as day. Gently she threaded her hands once again into his loose hair, sliding one hand down to the curve of his jaw, then down to his neck. His smile softened at her, and on impulse she slid a finger very gently along the edges of the bacta bandage near the side of his head, where the damage was least.

“I’m going to miss your beautiful blue eyes.”

A warm hand cupped hers, pulling it from the bandage to bring it to his lips as he pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

“You don’t know how much I already miss your green.”

She smiled sadly at her Jedi, so filled with love and care as she wondered idly if he was talking about her eyes, or her skin, or both. Gently she began shifting so that she slipped off of his lap. With a steady pull, she eased him down beside her so that they could both lay down. It was a little cramped on the narrow bunk, but it wasn’t the first time that they slept next to each other like this, and they knew the ways they fit together. Usually they lay spooned, or with her curled to the side of him. But this time he nestled against her side, clinging to her as his head rested just next to hers. He lay solid and warm beside her, and his hand snaked across her body to find hers, and upon finding it he clung to it as tightly as she clung to his.

Gently she nuzzled her nose into his hair, placing a soft kiss on his brow, pleased to feel it relax under the caress.

“Sleep, luv. Sleep as long as you need to. The world can wait for a few hours for you, and I won’t leave.” It was a promise, one she vowed she would keep because this would be the first time that Kanan would not wake up to see the light of day, to see anything at all, and she would ensure that when he came to, he would not be alone in the dark. “I’ll be right here.”

“You always are, Hera,” he breathed into her skin, like a prayer. His body finally began to grow lax beside her, beckoning sleep to finally take him as she held him close. “You always are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, here's my coping piece. It's a little bittersweet, but I hope you all liked it!


End file.
